The Legend of Bell: Meta-myth of heroic discovery

I wrote The Legend of Bell a few years ago and left it on the shelf, waiting for the stars to align. Given the events of this year — and 2020 ain’t over yet — this felt like an apt time to put the story out there.

The Legend of Bell is a modern myth meant to incorporate the history of our species and our understanding of the cosmos. In some sense, you can think of it as a meta-myth, the story of one hero’s passage through the stages of world religion, as they reflect the phases of psychological development.

From the archaic to the monotheistic to the postmodern, Bell witnesses sacrifices, pyramids and scholarship. The course of evolution mirrors the models of Spiral Dynamics and Integral Spirituality as popularized by Ken Wilber. Pursuant to those models, my story also employs a color scheme, associating each level of development with a different shade of the rainbow.

That’s really all the background you need. So let’s just dive in and let the 18-chapter legend speak for itself. (And stay tuned for the fully formatted pdf version with illustrations, coming soon!)

The Legend of Bell

I: Divine Birth

In a high mountain village the first day of Autumn
A mother caresses her new baby’s bottom
On top of the world, encircled by snow
The newborn possesses a heavenly glow

The villagers’ council drops in for a visit
And mother, surprised, begs them, “Tell me, what is it?”
“It’s a miracle, wonderful, magical thing
This child before us was born to be king”

But mother just chuckles and sends them away
“There’s cooking and nursing and no time to play
I’m ever so sorry for letting you down
But no son of mine is in line for the crown!”

As the envoy of senators shuffles along
The woman foresees something terribly wrong
A bane of misfortune has fallen upon her
Being chosen as king is no gesture of honor

In earlier ages the kings drew respect
But in these troubled times they can hardly expect
To enjoy a position of glory and grace
Instead they have Damocles’ sword in their place

The last several kings were delivered to God
Always in spring when the icicles thawed
As gifts to the Sun from the people who love it
A place on the throne is no station to covet

So mother looks down at the young would-be king
As her eyes water up he releases a ring
“What a curious sound, for your name shall be Bell
And now my son, Bell, I will hide you quite well”

From her frosty green garden she gathers some twigs
Some branches of poplar and five poppy sprigs
And weaving a basket for precious boy-wonder
She proves it will buoy and never go under

A dark stalk of cedar for the boy she adores
She breaks it in two and says: “This half is yours
Keep it close to your chest as your guide and protection
And never meet danger from any direction”

So into the basket she packs her young son
Who may have to paddle before he can run
At a fresh mountain spring she prepares her young Bell
“And someday, my son you’ll have stories to tell

Hold on to your cedar, remember your source
Have faith in the river and follow her course
In time you’ll know many, but always be one
For nothing replaces a mom’s only son”

Touching the water she watches him drift
And between them there grows an unstoppable rift
Alone he will travel on currents and streams
And find that the world isn’t quite what it seems

II. The Emergence

No father, no family, and nothing to lose
A three-day-old child now embarks on his cruise
A clean empty slate and a mind like a sponge
Curiosity takes him where kings dare not plunge

The journey begins in the high alpine peaks
Under icy blue skies he meanders for weeks
Swiftly careening ’round sheer glacial chasms
He handles the rapids with tremors and spasms

The boy in a basket keeps floating downhill
Till finally the current grows calmer and still
Amazed at himself for enduring the ride
Young Bell takes a moment for personal pride

Then a boulder strikes Bell and his boat by surprise
At which point he pauses and starts to surmise
“Is something else out there? Is everything planned?
On board this light craft, am I not in command?”

With that he looks up, to observe his position
To watch as he makes an important transition
Passing the timberline, grey turns to green
To enter a landscape like nothing he’s seen

For the first time Bell witnesses water fowl feeding
And frogs on the shore are successfully breeding
A serpent with grace on the water goes gliding
In trees he hears sparrows and finches in hiding

Perceiving these creatures, uncommon and new
He wonders reflectively: what should I do?
So he opens his mouth and commences to sing
In his clarion voice he gives names to each thing

As he gradually wearies from epithet singing
His stomach discharges a rumble and ringing
The clear mountain water is perfect for drinking
But the ration of roots from his mother is shrinking

Inspecting the shoreline, the forest grows quiet
Bell is now craving a change in his diet
Occasional waterborne treats can be found
But for genuine food he must anchor aground

Continuing down on the babbling brook
Approaching the shore for an interested look
Bell reaches out with a fumbling hand
And paddles his basket right up to the strand

Disembarking with caution, up out of his seat
The very first time on his very own feet
Alone in the forest with eyes all agog
He crawls his way over and onto a log

Adjusting his vision he squints at the trees
In search of fresh berries, wild cabbage and peas
But he sees only shadows, the harder he tries
Till out of the wood emerge three pairs of eyes

III. The Prophecy

Frozen in shock the young boy stands exposed
And does all he can to remain well composed
As three husky maidens step out of the black
And beholding his presence they’re taken aback

It’s perfectly clear to the women thereby
The child is a gift from the Lord up on high
Their ancestors promised a babe dressed in white
Would rescue them out of their famine and blight

The great river spirit has finally come through
Their call for salvation at last has come true
So the eldest produces her buckskin canteen
And offers a drink of the goat milk pristine

Wiping the mustache of cream from his lip
Bell joins the three on a short woodsy trip
Through the thick of the forest all luscious and damp
A trail that leads four of them right to their camp

To a circle of teepees on velvety green
Where the village is mourning its posthumous queen
And somber bystanders prepare for the wake
As three boars are slaughtered for eulogy’s sake

An ambivalent cluster rejoices and grieves
As the holy witch doctor looks up from his leaves
At the boy who now stands in a thin shaft of light
Surrounded by women who blush with delight

“So this is the one from the oracle reading
Now you must help bring an end to the bleeding
The well has been poisoned and deer meat is lacking
Diseases are sending our best hunters packing

Our queen she was recently struck by the scourge
A pestilent plague that we beg you to purge
The spirits now taunt us with callous and dread
Forsaking our queen like removing our head

You’ve come from outside, so innocent, pure
And now you’re my tribe’s only hope for a cure
It’s funeral day, and you’ll lead the procession
Together we’ll end this most heinous oppression”

So Bell takes his cue and he follows the Shaman
Preparing himself for expelling the daemon
Approaching the coffin, half buried in flowers
The boy reconsiders his magical powers

Unsure what to think of this puzzling scene
Young Bell peers inside to examine the queen
Transfixed by this vision of stillness and grace
The boy reaches in and caresses her face

Holding their breath, each villager stares
“Funny way Fate has of mocking our prayers!
Just when we thought it could never get worse
The boy will now bring an unspeakable curse!”

IV. The Curse

Two hundred eyes are all aiming like spears
A terrible toddler’s just wakened their fears
By touching the body that lay in the casket
Now Bell, like a flash, must escape in his basket

Back on the water, disaster averted
Bell’s feeling safer but still disconcerted
For everyone knows not to handle the dead
And now there’s a dull throbbing pain in his head

“How could I ever have acted so naughty
Reaching inside and disturbing the body?
After treating me kindly with honor and privilege
I’ve driven a stake through the heart of their village!”

Cursing himself for this odious blunder
Enveloped by darkness he pauses to wonder
And try as he might to unscramble his mind
Bell senses that something is turning him blind

Departing the forest of emerald green
The landscape around him can hardly be seen
Stricken by panic and tremulous doubt
The river responds with a turbulent bout

Searching in vain for an ocular cure
Bell can see naught but a shadowy blur
And squinting his eyes for the purpose of pressure
He looks all about to relieve his displeasure

Still he sees something and more than just black
On the bank is a creature with stripes on its back
A skunk scurries over with odor no duller
And Bell realizes what’s missing is color

Clenching his cedar with thanks for his sight
It’s clear to him now, but in plain black and white
No sign of orange or purple or green
And closing his eyes he remembers the queen

“What have I done, have I angered the heavens?
Treating the corpse of the queen with irreverence?
For now I must live with the shadow of death
And know that some day I will take my last breath”

Continuing forward, downstream in his vessel
With dismal new knowledge Bell now has to wrestle
A question so boundless and no way to ask it
“For what is the point of this ride in my basket?”

On his colorless course he keeps bobbing along
While trying to determine what’s right and what’s wrong
And labeling everything evil or good
He separates water from fire from wood

At ease with his errors he plunges ahead
Ready to rest his exhausted young head
The river grows wide and surprisingly still
As Bell comes ashore at the base of a hill

V. The Hunt

In the morning Bell wakes under clear skies of grey
And hopes this will prove a more prosperous day
But looking about he is taken aback
By a posse of trappers with furs on their back

Detecting no danger but hunger instead:
“Come hunting with us and we’ll see that you’re fed”
Bell wets his lips at the mention of food
“I’m just passing through and don’t wish to intrude”

“It shouldn’t take long to impart you these skills
There’s buffalo lurking just over these hills
So join us young boy and we’ll make you a man
You’ve nothing to fear from our courteous clan”

And join them he does as they’re painting their faces
For tracking the bison through wide open spaces
Chanting together and offering prayers
Invoking the spirits of eagles and bears

The men share the magic imbued in their spears
And secrets of how they’ve been hunting for years
Approaching the herd all the hunters grow quiet
And whisper to Bell, “Now it’s your turn to try it”

So Bell sets his sights on a shaggy-haired beast
And with uncanny force is the arrow released
Betwixt two thick ribs of the buffalo’s chest
The point strikes his heart and it lays him to rest

In a moment of sudden split-second decision
Bell struck his target with expert precision
And now he considers the fatal result
By one act of killing he’s now an adult

Observing the creature that thrashes in pain
And watching the blood as it pours from a vein
Bell grows aware of a hint of a hue
As puddles of crimson come into his view

“Behold the great hunter who’s won us our meat
Now back to the cave where we’ll merrily eat”
All ’round the fire they’re comfortably seated
And naturally Bell is respectfully treated

“We honor you Bell for your virtuous merit
So drink from this horn – it’s our privilege to share it
We entreat you now enter our holiest cave
On its walls are the creatures we proudly engrave”

Then he raises the horn to his thirsty red lips
A potion of pomegranate bubbles and drips
And consuming the ruby liqueur as instructed
His ritual passage is duly conducted

“The fruity libation shall waken your mind
As you follow the water for answers to find
And heed the Great Spirit wherever you go
To the corners of earth where the four winds will blow”

VI. The Flood

The enchanted concoction still wet on his mouth
As an ominous wind rushes up from the south
And with it come lightning and thunder and rain
As the heavens erupt in a deafening refrain

Back to the river, the water is rising
And Bell must endeavor to keep from capsizing
As the riverbanks burst with too much to contain
The deluge continues unleashing her rain

Clenching his lifeboat and questioning why
“What could be causing this wrath from the sky?”
He ponders his actions and letting of blood
And watches the earth become covered in mud

While his conscience configures a guilty condition
His consciousness carefully comes to fruition
His heart becomes heavy with anguish and pain
And still the storm rages with buckets of rain

Recalling the animal’s blood which he spilt
While once he felt hunger he now senses guilt
The forces of nature collude to avenge him
And six weeks of water will thoroughly quench him

Traversing the rapids his vessel is thrown
While Bell is entirely soaked to the bone
The cataracts carry him over the plains
And relentlessly heaven releases the rains

He passes the steppes with the current still roaring
And areas consumed by perpetual pouring
Landslides are washing the hillsides away
And drowning the villages day after day

As channels are filling with dross and debris
The maelstrom continues in mythic degree
Laying waste to the people and pastures and creatures
Engulfing the world’s most significant features

So Bell takes his cedar and squeezes it tight
To summon the strength that will conquer his fright
He calls on the courage he needs to sustain
And the deluge continues her torrent of rain

Mother nature has proven her menacing might
Delivering man the most terrible sight
But now she sees fit for reversing the tide
And finally the tempest begins to subside

It’s looking at last like the end of the rains
But the turbulent ride’s brought considerable gains
The river’s arrived on a desert plateau
And Bell rests his eyes on the valley below

Around him the floodwater slowly recedes
Uncovering patches of grasses and reeds
Revealing the hope of a brighter new day
As things become ever so slightly less gray

VII. The Harvest

Gazing above at the wide open skies
Where no warmer welcome could comfort his eyes
Bell finds a mooring and docks on the sand
Eager to touch down his feet on dry land

Above the embankment a farmer salutes
“Greetings young man, now come share in our fruits!
Our city rejoices with every good reason
For no one recalls a more prosperous season

The rains came down hard on our sun-roasted soil
And crops came to life with our labor and toil
A harvest so rich, it won’t soon be outdone
At the temple we’ll honor the Moon and the Sun!”

On a tower of bricks pointing straight to the sky
The priest holds a sickle and speaks from on high
“Most generous goddess of earth, sky and water
To thank you we offer this cattle for slaughter”

With zealous devotion the cow is commuted
The heavenly cycles will not be refuted
“And now we beseech you, our affable guest
The priesthood invites you to make your request”

“A precarious journey has taken me here
Exposing the dangers that fill me with fear
It seems to me certain that everything dies
Your highness, I seek to avoid this demise”

“You ask for eternity, simple and plain
No easy order for man to obtain
And no greater wish you could ever presume
So let’s take a trip to the emperor’s tomb”

Sifting through sand dunes and thirsting for brew
A mystic elixir to heal and renew
The pair make their way ‘cross the open expanse
Past wheat fields and farmers who labor like ants

The clergyman pauses and comments to Bell
“Examine the husks of the wheat where they fell
If the soil be fertile the grain will return
And thus in the dirt there’s a lesson to learn”

When Bell and his mentor arrive at the site
The time is approaching the last of day’s light
A four-sided monument stands in the dust
The sky turning colors of orange and rust

Adjusting his eyes to the radiant glow
Bell blinks again at the colorful show
The powerful spectacle brightly displays
How the king becomes god and a ruler of rays

A full moon emerges and closes the day
Reflecting, like Bell, who has nothing to say
And learning that life doesn’t come to a finish
It causes his worries of death to diminish

VIII. The Dogma

Descending the dunes with a grain or two more
Kernels of truth in his conscience to store
And back to the raft he continues to paddle
Passing more shepherds and keepers of cattle

An ominous calm in the water appears
It looks like the river has shifted its gears
Stopping abruptly as if by command
As thousands of migrants proceed over land

Twelve of them turn with a greeting to Bell
“It seems you must wait for a change in the swell
Or join the migration that scatters its seeds
To see where this highway of transients leads”

An elder approaches with light in his eyes
To slowly examine the raft and surmise
“You’ve already covered some distance my friend
But you’ve got a long ways before reaching the end

So tell me young fella, just what’s on your mind?
Is there something you’d like us to help you to find?”
“Yes, if I may, if it’s not such a bother
I think you should know I’m in search of my father”

“Very well now, so it’s as I suspected
Just follow me then, I believe you’re expected
The Father has summoned me up to the heights
Where I’m due to perform an observance of rites”

They hike for an hour, then stop to explain
The elder asks Bell to prepare to be slain
“Our Father requested a gesture of proof
Demanding the life of an innocent youth”

And then a sweet angel appears up above
To thank the old shepherd for proving his love
“Your Father is pleased with your faithful devotion
Now let’s put a stop to this fruitless commotion”

Incredulous Bell, he now wrinkles his brows
“I thought such a thing only happened to cows!
If this is the Father who reigns from above
Then yours is a creed I want no portion of”

“Oy vey, I confess, it’s a tiring test
But everyone knows that our Father’s the best
For he is the singular only true god
The others all worship a pagan facade

Unlike the Father we’re tarnished by flaws
And yet we were chosen to follow his laws
You wanted your father and such have you found
But we must continue toward holier ground”

With this all the pilgrims unite hand in hand
And Bell casts a gander out over the land
A profusion of daisies and blooms to behold
Now carpets the desert with yellow and gold

IX. The Exodus

Watching the masses proceed on their journey
Here a young doctor and there an attorney
Bell’s thirsty hope is renewed like a fountain
Observing the migrants whose faith moves a mountain

With his vision returning he starts to detect
A pattern of knowledge that varies by sect
And brooding all over it, Bell finds it odd
For people so shrewd to accept just one god

As the water resumes and the tribe moves along
He tries to untangle the right from the wrong
And scratching his head with a series of questions
A leper approaches to ask for directions

“Can you please point the way for a drifter in need?
How my people do migrate with consummate speed!
Can’t they see I’m infirm and I’m weighted with sorrow?
Don’t let my body be found here tomorrow”

“My eyes are impaired and the sun’s getting low
I doubt I can tell you the best way to go
This desert to me is completely unknown
And the hour’s quite late to go hiking alone”

“Then I’m following you,” the old leper retorts
“Now let’s shake a leg or I’ll get out of sorts”
And Bell interjects, “Let us go before dark”
And together they board his excuse for an ark

Packed in Bell’s basket like slices of cheese
They float right along in the eventide breeze
When the leper speaks up and says, “Heckuva yacht
I thought we trying to avoid a tight spot”

“I’m sorry my friend but I ought to confess”
And Bell tries explaining the state of his mess
But the leper pipes up and says, “Don’t be a fretter
This is God’s will and couldn’t be better!”

Bell takes a moment to savor that notion
When his mate interrupts with a close-up commotion
“Of course if you’d rather I’ll sing you the blues
You wouldn’t believe what it’s like in my shoes”

Inspecting the leper, Bell nods in assent
“Believe me young man, mine’s a life to lament
From mogul and king to a leper and debtor
But this is God’s will and it couldn’t be better”

For days they share tales of their crests and their troughs
And Bell steers the raft while the invalid coughs
Passing through unpeopled mountains and canyons
Till finally a figure excites the companions

From an outcrop of limestone his shadow is cast
As a circle of vultures is coming down fast
It looks as if somebody’s caught in a bind
So the partners make landing to see what they’ll find

X. The Revelation

Over boulders and ridges the searchers persist
To a precipice height where a man waves his fist
Cursing the heavens for all that they’ve wrought
For chaining his frame to this god-awful spot

“Pardon me mister,” says Bell to the man
“We’d be happy to scare off these birds if we can
They seem to be chewing your liver to pieces
You’ll never think straight till their nibbling ceases”

“Then go right ahead and unfetter my hands
My punishment here – not a soul understands
Your eyes are imperfect and slightly myopic
Allow me to shed some more light on this topic

Blasted, by Jove, if he had it his way
The Earth would still linger in darkness today
He says you’re unworthy and nothing but trouble
But he lives up above with the clouds in a bubble

So I pilfered a glimmer of light from beyond”
“Alas,” says the leper, “Thou shalt not abscond!”
“I taught them the numbers and use of the letter”
“But this is God’s will and it couldn’t be better!”

“No,” says the thoughtful apostate, “you’re wrong
To make the world better you have to be strong
And trust in yourself to pursue what’s correct
For there’s times to obey and there’s times to object”

At this the old leper is stricken with grief
“Your blasphemous words are beyond my belief
And your love of humanity’s simply too much
Just how did you come to be so out of touch?”

“I see that your dogma’s been chiseled in stone
So thanks for the freedom, now leave me alone
If you’re looking to argue, you’ve climbed the wrong rock
In the city you’ll meet many eager to talk”

With that the two drifters take leave of the boulder
As the fetcher of fire continues to smolder
Perturbed by the punishment handed from high
And worse by the people too glib to ask why

“Come along Bell, we’ve no time for such bother
This one is filled with contempt for the Father
Let’s take his advice and proceed to the polis
Where a salad of feta awaits to console us”

On steep narrow pathways of marble and gypsum
The two tumble downward like flotsam and jetsam
By fig trees and vineyards and blossoming flora
Past pillars and columns and through the agora

To the center of town where the men make a scene
Where ponderous pundits on porches convene
An olympic arrangement of scholars in thought
Pensively poised to debate what they’re taught

XI. The Contemplation

Bell stands in awe of the glorious features
A city of wise and political creatures
All uttering classical maxims and laws
While searching the skies for original cause

A man shouts “Eureka” while drawing his bath
As men debate concepts of science and math
And bearded philosophers rise from the marble
To pace in their sandals and speak in their garble

Caressing his weathered and leathery chin
A fellow greets Bell with a curious grin
“You’re out of your element, aren’t you young man?
I’ll happily show you the way if I can”

“On the hill there’s a villain with much on his mind
He pointed us here for some supper to find
But not before sharing his criminal act
Offending my friend by the virtue he lacked”

“That man on the hillside is more than a crook
He enlightened us all with the candle he took
So you might not discover the schwarmas you sought
But I’m sure we can find you some food for your thought

Now my hunch says your hunger goes well beyond food
And I hate to be nosy, intrusive or rude
But I sense that you search for what every soul yearns
For more than what fits in our valuable urns”

“In fact you’re correct,” Bell nervously mumbles
“I’ve traveled some distance through tempests and tumbles
And still I continue and aimlessly roam
But sometimes I wish I could find my way home”

“I see,” says the scholar, “a sailor of sorts
An odyssey maker out scouting the ports
You’re sure not the first to assume such a mission
Pursuing his roots with ancestral ambition

With the trials and labors of Hercules passed
It’s clear that your vigor will not be surpassed
But I warn you that pride may undo your success
Be wary of hubris and deeds of excess”

“Of pride I know nothing,” Bell smugly proclaims
“I bow to the Father,” the leper maintains
“Then your quest is completed?” the pedagogue wonders
Just as a cloud inauspiciously thunders

“I caution you both: reconsider your stance
If you ever stop asking, you’ll never advance
Just know thyself, as my colleagues advise
Examine your life, and you’ll always be wise”

Into the fields Bell goes drifting entranced
Through mysterious oak groves where fairies have danced
Ruminating over his views and demeanor
Then opens his eyes and sees everything greener

XII. The Humanity

Now the leper and Bell, with his eyesight improving
Return to the raft as they’ve got to keep moving
“I reckon we’ve still got some distance to cover,”
Says Bell as he leans on his vessel to shove her

“I can hardly believe it,” the leper butts in
“How they honor mankind, which knows nothing but sin
Their regard for the Father is little or none
They idolize icons and flout them for fun”

“You heard what they said, don’t succumb to your pride
Be grateful we’re leaving and savor the ride
Perhaps,” Bell proposes, “their logic’s essential
To unlock the secrets of human potential

Your words from the hilltop are all well and good
But if we can find meaning inside, then we should
Is your Father the beacon of light we should find?
Or merely the shadow we see from behind?”

“My land,” cries the cripple, “just look what they’ve wrought
So easily fooled by the lies you’ve been taught
You think you’ll discover this light on your own?
Or steal it and find yourself chained to a stone?”

“Why not,” Bell concedes, “I’m not claiming it’s easy
But gaseous invertebrates make me feel queasy
My father, my mother? How little you know
I come from a village up high in the snow”

“I see,” says the leper, “you doubt His all-knowing
Just look at your ego so rapidly growing
No wonder you talk about pride like you know it
If anyone gave you a stone you would throw it”

“Since when,” wonders Bell, “are there rules against doubting?
There’s no need for stonings or rancorous shouting
It’s only a matter of inner inspection
A personal query for holy direction”

“Oh Bell, I’m afraid you’re as lost as can be
You’d rather go wandering purposelessly
With no moral compass to show you the way
Yet the truth has been written as plainly as day

Remember the candle thief tied on a chain?
Was he punished or worshipped? I wish they’d explain
Instead they implore us to wander within
And what a conundrum from which to begin”

At that Bell reposes and stares at the sky
Thinking and dreaming as moments go by
On the ways of the river he pensively dwells
How each droplet cycles through eddies and swells

Though the water is moving the stream keeps her shape
And one after ‘nother they slowly escape
Rising up high in the clouds they take form
And find their way back in the very next storm

XIII. The Maturation

On leaving his crippled companion behind
Bell finds his mission is still undefined
The harder he searches, the further his goal
It’s easy to see it’s beyond his control

Pushing his paddle and slowly proceeding
He scratches his head where his hairline’s receding
The days pass like years and the years just like days
Adventure has entered a kind of malaise

And shaking himself from a drowsy condition
Bell sees his craft in a stagnant position
An area of swampland has swallowed the stream
A haven for insects who thrive on the steam

Mosquitos are gathered and thirsty for blood
As Bell inches forward through lilies and mud
And hopes to escape from this torpid morass
But with all of his strength, he’s unable to pass

With the back of his hand he caresses his brow
And hopes for some respite, but whither and how?
In the struggle he seems to have wandered off course
He must gather his wits and direction perforce

If only his vessel could make it to shore
Where Bell could step out on the land and explore
But this swamp offers nothing akin to sure footing
The jungle terrain is like walking on pudding

Then finally from out of the ivy a face
“What brings you here to this damp putrid place?
From the shade of your skin and your crooked canoe
Somehow I sense that there’s something askew”

Bell begins nodding: it’s true and he knows it
He’s lost and the look on his face clearly shows it
“Come along now, and stop looking so dire
You think you’re the first to get stuck in this mire?

Follow me home where a warm bowl of rice
And a fresh pot of jasmine will surely suffice
All I ask in return is your bending my ear
I can’t wait to learn how you ended up here”

“The kindness of strangers,” Bell humbly explains
“Has moved me through deserts and famines and rains
And how can I say where I’ll find myself next?
To arrive here with you I would never have guessed”

Examining Bell with a meaningful grin
The gentleman scratches his white hairy chin
“Precisely this mystery proves you’re alive
Far better you travel than that you arrive”

“Old man, I suspect that you’re not just a hermit
I’m sure that your wisdom will quickly confirm it
My vessel is one thing I need to recover
But first it’s my Self that I long to discover”

XIV. The Sage

“You ask for the heavens and earth on a platter
What makes you think I can help in this matter?
I offer my home to a stranger and guest
And who but a wizard could answer the rest?

Perhaps I can help you with where to begin
A wise man will say you must venture within
Empty your mind, let the peace be enjoyed
And surrender yourself to the wide open void

This diligent river, or thorough at least
It touches all corners including the east
Dare you to think that your oar could command it?
Or should we believe that some deity has planned it?”

Rhetorical questions force Bell to observe
“These riddles you utter have stricken a nerve
Disturbing the patterns that form my perceptions
And making me alter my age-old deceptions

I wish I could wipe my mind clean like a slate
To be free from distress and desire and hate
But I must find my boat and continue my quest”
At which point the guru butts in to suggest:

“He who releases is someone who knows
And submits to the current that constantly flows
But he who resists will tread water like sand
As the river of life slips right out of his hand”

“Good sir,” Bell responds, “I respect your advice
Allow me to thank you for serving me rice”
“I see,” says the hermit, “your patience is waning
In leaving I’m sure you will stop your complaining

So let me assist with your vessel to find
Muddy water resembles your fidgety mind
The best way to clear it is leave it alone
The more you disturb it the less will be known”

So Bell shakes his head and he stares like he’s told
And slowly his vision begins to take hold
Forgetting himself as the surface turns flat
He sees through the water and mutters, “what’s that?”

Transfixed by the realm of aquatic azure
The maelstrom of colorful cobalt so pure
Not only his craft in the depth does he see
But also a face in reflection: “That’s me!”

Like a mirror the water provides him a view
Of the infinite sky in a heavenly hue
“My friend, you are simple, and still so arcane
It’s hard to express, though it’s truthful and plain”

“No need to thank me, just wait for the tide
When it rises the mudlarks will serve as your guide”
To himself he chants “Om Mani Padme Hum
And now may your venture directly resume”

XV. The Retribution

From out of the labyrinth of channels he drifts
His heart full of thanks for a lifetime of gifts
To all of the allies he’s met on his way
“Without them my life would be senseless and gray”

Finally the current is even and quick
The shore becomes crowded with mortar and brick
Ahead stands a city that’s equal to none
With glimmering steeples that shine in the sun

“Welcome, good man, to the city eternal
I’m here at your service, just call me the Colonel
The privilege is yours to have entered our borders
Now just a few questions, as these are my orders

Can I ask if you have any goods to declare?
Any weapons or spirits or shekels to spare?
One final question, our records must measure
What brings you here, is it business or pleasure?”

“Well,” Bell says, “Colonel, you might find it odd
I think what I’m seeking is something called God”
“Seek Him no longer, He’s here to be found
Join me and Peter on rock-solid ground”

“Indeed,” answers Bell, “I have seen him before
With each town I visit, they add something more”
“No,” says the Colonel,” those idols are flawed
Ecce Homo, my friend, is the true living God”

“Of all the beliefs I’ve encountered so far
It’s interesting, Colonel, how certain you are”
And Bell whispers “Om Mani Padme Hum
For every religion there’s plenty of room”

Confounded, the Colonel looks down and begins
“Stranger, I thank you for sharing your sins
And now that you’ve gotten it off of your chest
I think we’ll be putting you under arrest”

“Behold it,” says Bell, “for we both worship man
And I worship you as thou art as I am
And you worship me as a creature divine
So pardon me, Colonel, you’re way out of line”

“The prophet of truth has delivered the news
You’ve made yourself clear – and his word you refuse
To the kingdom of heaven you falsely aspire
Just wait till you’re swallowed by brimstone and fire

Your manner of thinking is ill and mistaken
Your thoughts are a menace and must be forsaken
It’s off to the dungeon with you, my poor Bell
And soon your sad soul will be rotting in Hell”

The sentry leads Bell behind bars very thick
As the prison gate closes he hears a dull click
With rock for a pillow and cold ground his bed
He spreads his hands open to cradle his head

XVI. The Reflection

In the deep pit of darkness he wallows and rues
Will the axe of the headsman curtail his cruise?
Or will he be hanged at the gallows at dawn?
Be buried alive or be quartered and drawn?

His fate in the balance, Bell trembles and turns
With the meaning of life still among his concerns
Now that it’s over he hopes he’s enjoyed it
Untimely death – can he somehow avoid it?

“Your sentence is ready,” the watchman declares
“At dawn you’ll be fed to the lions and bears
The city arena will ring with applause
When your flesh is removed by their ravenous claws”

Imagine the terror bedeviling Bell
Awaiting his death in a cold, lonesome cell
Wringing his hands with discomfort and dread
For soon he will know what it means to be dead

“Oh mother, forgive me, I’ve failed us at last
It seems that my time here on earth is near passed
Your raft was so sturdy, but now we’re a wreck
But hold it – your cedar still hangs on my neck”

Squeezing the stick while he stares at the door
As a rodent goes darting across the stone floor
Mousing its way between bars of cold steel
He bolts down the corridor and lets out a squeal

Quick to his feet with a captive’s attention
Bell sees a way to cut short his detention
Reaching around with his weather-worn stick
He fumbles the latch till he hears it go click

On tip toes he turns and releases the gate
And examines the hall in his trembling state
He passes the watchman who snores like a sot
Cheating death isn’t nearly as hard as he thought

Then out of the passage a soldier advances
No longer is Bell so assured of his chances
As their toes almost touch, Bell turns white with alarm
Though stunted in stature, the soldier comes armed

Through the iron-clad visor a voice can be heard
“Is this what you want, to be free as a bird?”
At which point the soldier removes her disguise
Catching Bell in the gaze of her indigo eyes

“If it’s freedom you crave, let me lend you a hand
There’s no stronger fortress in all of the land
Allow me to show you the tunnel we use
For rescuing those with provocative views”

“The message you bring could mean freedom for all”
She says as they enter the tunnel and crawl
“Your compassion, my brother, is hardly a crime
We’ve awaited your visit for such a long time”

XVII. The Liberation

“I too have waited, for what I know not
After so many years in my handy-craft yacht
But at last I detect a small sliver of light
The end of our tunnel has come within sight”

His female companion she nods to agree
“That’s right we’ve arrived – as I promised you’re free
But the light you could see was not heavenly shone
The city itself has a glow of its own

And now, if it pleases, I’ll act as your guide
There’s alleys and shelters where outlaws can hide
Or else we can safely meander by night
By cover of darkness in private delight”

Bending his collar to survey the setting
Bell finds the landscape a trifle upsetting
“I’ve never seen anything half as imposing
The wonders of science and nature opposing

The ground has been plastered with gravel and tar
In the sky overhead not a singular star
The concrete has flourished where daffodils die
And columns of towers are scratching the sky

Tell me how anything here has survived
And what of the river on which I arrived?
Every last surface is covered in words
And all without substance but followed by herds

The merchants are peddling answers and how
As book readers cling to the powerful now
Tuning themselves to a secret vibration
Convinced by their figments of manifestation”

Bell rolls his eyes at this gullible state
“In a puddle of prophecy men wade and wait
But for lifetimes the river has nourished our thirst
The way they ignore it, they seem to be cursed

Like lab rats in mazes in search of their cheese
Crunching their numbers with consummate ease
Looking for answers in test tubes and dishes
Or bound to a doctrine of gospels and fishes

Some follow dogma devoid of its passion
Others are wakened by phases of fashion
While images broken in heaps upon high
Are towering into a meaningless sky”

“Calm yourself, Bell, let your nervousness lapse
Is it substance you’re seeking, or meaning perhaps?
It’s you who will save us with thoughts so profound
And show us that heaven is here on the ground”

In tacit agreement, Bell draws out his cedar
“I’ll give you my theory, but don’t call me leader”
And drawing a circle he writes in the sand
As his partner bends over and opens her hand

XVIII. The Renewal

Astonished, Bell blinks in her colorful gaze
And stares at the stick that she languidly lays
‘Cross the crux of the circle he carefully drew
“I see from the cedar, it really is you”

Responding he places his twig over hers
“Uncanny, the way that my stick matches yours
My journey’s completed now, ready or not
The point of reunion, where X marks the spot”

“Oh Bell, how I’ve waited, a lifetime it seems
For the answers to life as foretold in my dreams
So smelling like roses and violets galore
You must be the messenger promised from yore”

“Don’t look to me for your truth and salvation
You must engage in your own revelation
Truth doesn’t ring in the words you repeat
But in moments of marvel, from strangers you meet

In the snow-covered mountains my venture began
But everyone follows his own special plan
And now I must go, for I’m practically done
I’m off to the ocean where many are one”

Believing the river continues below
And knowing there’s only a short way to go
Under a manhole Bell motions to exit
“Often there’s gold where you’d never expect it”

No time for heroes to question their hunches
So into the sewers he fearlessly plunges
And floating like wood on a singular course
He senses the weight of original source

Escaping the city’s conspicuous scourge
The arteries thicken as waters converge
And waving goodbye to the windmills and towers
He turns his attention to rainbows and flowers

Under the arches ’round rapids and narrows
Back to the lifeline of farmers and pharaohs
Where fools are inducted and masters advance
Conducting his way by the mariner’s dance

And now that his vision’s been fully redeemed
He sees that his life isn’t quite what it seemed
So closing his eyes he dissolves in the fountain
Of sorrow and joy as it pours from the mountain

The river embraces both quiet and storm
And into the ocean surrenders her form
Crashing through waves as they enter the sea
The sweet and the salty are made to agree

At the mouth of the river he’s fed like all others
Confirming the counsel of fathers and brothers
Accepting the succor of mothers and daughters
Anointed at last in the numinous waters

Further Reading

If you enjoyed the Legend of Bell, please consider sharing the post or subscribing to the blog. You might also want to check out some of these popular poems and articles:

• The Legend of Rusty the Wagon
• Limericks about Dostoyevsky
• Serious Limericks: There once was an unsmiling rhymer

FEATURED IMAGE: L’Aurora painting by Salvador Dali